


Coming Out of My Cage

by Unforth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Body Dysphoria, Bondage, Bottom Dean, Collars, Dean is "Trans" Dom to Sub, Dom Castiel, Dom Dean, Dom/sub, Gags, Ice Play, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Leashes, M/M, Mild Feminization, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise Kink, Subdrop, Top Castiel, Under-negotiated Kink, Virgin Dean, Whipping, dom/sub verse, i have no idea how to tag this, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-13 01:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11174271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Domshaveto act a certain way: everyone knows that. Stand tall, walk proud, be bold,  take control. Dean's played along his whole life, acting as biology dictate he should, while all the while he longed for someone to put him in his place.Finding a club that catered to anonymous hook-ups, no questions asked, was easy.Putting on the collar, and finding a dom willing to take a chance on a "sub" who doesn't look the part? That might be a bit harder...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majestic_duck (majesticduxk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk/gifts).



> I've been wanting to write a dom/sub verse for a while, but I don't have time to do a "fully thought out" take on it. Instead, ya'll are getting this. I expect it'll be three chapters, each on the relatively short side (by my usual standards) and I'll be writing them as a reward to myself as I work on my Cap RB. This chapter, I "gave myself" permission to write because I managed to write 10,000 words of Cap RB over two days of my weekend.
> 
> Next chapter will hopefully be written Wednesday, but if and ONLY if I can get 5,000 words of Cap RB written on Monday and Tuesday. Wish me luck! :)
> 
> This fic has been written as a birthday gift for the wonderful majesticduxk. Love you, hun! <3

_No one here knows me._

_No one here will know what I really am..._

_...no. That’s not me. This is me._

Steeling himself, Dean took the pale blue collar, swallowed hard, and looped it around his neck. The scant weight of it sat heavy on his skin, shockingly constraining over his Adam’s apple. Swallowing again, Dean let his eyes slip shut and took a moment to ground himself in the vibrancy of the scene surrounding him and accustom himself to the feel of being...

...fuck, he didn’t even know what he was, but it felt good.

Music thumped, bass so heavy that Dean’s heart beat synced with it, so loud that the melody line – if there even _was_ a melody line – was inaudible. Around him, people shouted, laughed, yelled, screamed with pain, moaned with pleasure. Somewhere, heels clacked on the dance floor, a whip cracked on flesh, glasses clinked, chains rattled. No further instrumentation was needed; the bass and the chaotic scattered noises of the crowd in the club made a song which was all the more perfect for it being transitory and guaranteed never to be repeated precisely the same way.

With every bob and twitch of his neck, the collar pressed in Dean’s skin.

Dean _loved_ it.

Opening his eyes, Dean scanned the room. The dance floor was jumping, a DJ at one end making a show of selecting the inaudible tunes. A bar lined one wall, backlit by lights that rotated through the color of the rainbow, aimed at the ceiling, glittering off the bottles lining the walls. Tables surrounded the dancers, though hardly anybody sat, most people drifting between groups or standing around the flat tops. Drinks, more numerous than the number of people any given table could have accommodated littered every available surface.

Drifting toward the bar, Dean peered around, hoping to catch someone’s eye, but the only people who glanced his way sneered or grimaced and moved on. Everyone appeared to be paired off, or trio-ed off, or quadrupled-off, or more, as suited their taste. Usually, even without catching glimpse of who wore the collar and who wore the wrist bands, it was clear was dominant and who was submissive. That, at least, was no different from normal. Every day, everywhere, _everyone_ knew which adults were dominant and which were submissive. Even for those few lucky enough not to have the biological tells that generally made it obvious – slightness of form, delicateness of feature, every stereotype that doms _insisted_ were the mark of the most desirable subs – habit meant that submissives kept their eyes lowered and culture _demanded_ that they dress certain easily distinguishable ways – the scantier, the better. Dominants were as trapped in their roles as submissives were, forced to stand tall, meet everyone’s eyes, stride down the street like they owned the whole fucking city, on and on...

Dean hated the whole fucking system.

 _That’s_ why he was there.

Strobe lights and an incongruous, glittering disco ball illuminated the dance floor, and by that light Dean couldn’t recognize the tells that usually marked dominant and submissive. Only the roles they played betrayed them.

Here, Dean was a submissive because his collar named him one, and physical and biological traits – the vagaries of being assigned _dominant_ at birth – be _damned_ to fucking hell and back.

No one stopped him on the way to the bar.

 _Of course not. Even here, everyone sees me as a dom. No one as tall as I am, no one this built, no one this broad, no one like_ me _could possibly be a submissive. I’m a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing. The other doms are probably wondering what my game is, if I’m one of those sick fucks who gets off on breaking fellow doms for fun._

 _But no, I’m one of those sick fucks who_ wants _to have a fellow dom get off on breaking me for me._

_No matter what I was born..._

_...I know what I really am._

“What’ll ya have?” asked the unremarkable bartender. Dressed in black, hair and makeup plain, Dean could only assume the woman was meant to fade into the background.

“A dom bigger than me and a kinky fuck,” Dean muttered sourly, dropping into a vacant bar stool with a sigh. The woman looked a question at him, but before she could ask him to speak up, two meek submissives came up and, ignoring Dean as if he were invisible, placed their order.

A shiver went down Dean’s spine.

_Ignoring me as if I’m just another submissive._

_Maybe...maybe this isn’t so hopeless after all._

_No one here knows me._

_No one here will know what biological says I “am” unless I tell them._

_Isn’t that why I came?_

_I hope—_

“He’ll have ice water in a soda glass, please.” The voice that seized the bartender and Dean’s attention was deep, coarse, assertive, and fucking _perfect_. “Two – no, make it three ice cubes, and a slice of lemon.” Dean turned to see who had placed the order for him. Flashes of light picked out tanned skin, dark eyes, black hair, rolled up dress shirt sleeves, a buttoned up vest. Corded arms leaned against the edge of the bar, and a pale blue wrist cuff encircled his right hand. The man gave Dean a wink, a nod and a smirk. “Scene?” he asked.

God, his voice was sex incarnate. Dean had never wanted to get on his knees so badly for anyone in his life.

_...but I've wanted to get on my knees before, so many times..._

“Sure,” he croaked.

_...but I never, ever have..._

_...maybe tonight...maybe I can finally..._

Easing into a broad grin, the man pulled a leash from the pocket of his pants and clipped it to Dean’s collar. The bartender returned with Dean’s ice water; the man picked it up, stared Dean down, then took a sip for himself, negligently holding the collar with one hand.

“My name is Castiel, but until I uncollar you, you will call me _Sir_. Pet, what’s your name?” A burst of sudden light showed the man – Castiel’s – eyes brilliant blue; they went wide as Castiel realized that Dean was looking straight at him, meeting his gaze, staring him down. Dean’s heartbeat thrummed with nerves.

_Just started and I’m already screwing up! Know my place, that’s what dad always said, be a man, stand up for myself, show the subs whose boss..._

With another swallow that pressed the collar against his throat once more, Dean lowered his gaze to his lap.

“Dean, sir,” he said with what he hoped was a demure air.

_Fuck, I should have given him a false name..._

_...but he’s my dom and he gave me an order. I’m supposed to respond promptly and honestly. Right? Fucking hell, what am I doing? Maybe I shouldn’t have come here, maybe—_

“Good,” murmured Castiel. Dean’s fears vanished, replaced by a warm glow that tingled to the tips of his fingers. As softly as Castiel had spoken, his voice shouldn’t have been audible in the cacophony, but the rest of the room might have vanished for all Dean cared. No other sound existed in the world except that gorgeous, melodic, rich voice.

_The voice of my dom. My very first dom._

“What do you say we find someplace a little more private – and quiet?” Castiel suggested.

“Yes, sir,” Dean concurred, sliding from the chair.

Brushing by him, Castiel led the way, and Dean followed obediently behind. Dean hadn’t even thought to go first, and not just because he didn’t know the layout of the club. Wearing the collar and leash, Dean felt comfortable in his skin for the first time since...

...since ever...

...since he presented as a dominant while he was a teenager.

Watching Castiel’s powerful back, shoulder blades shifting the material of his vest as his arms swung, muscled ass awesomely filling out a pair of dark slacks, Dean, for once, knew _exactly_ what to do, _exactly_ how to behave, and it was glorious.

Castiel was in charge.

Dean belonged to Castiel.

_Thank God._

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that I've added a few tags, for John's A+ Parenting (you're all shocked I'm sure) and also for some additional kinks that turned up that I wasn't expecting. :)

“Open wide,” Castiel commanded, one finger slipping beneath Dean’s collar and kneading at his neck. Dean’s knees ached where they pressed into the hard wood floor, the cheap faux leather around his neck bit into his flesh, and nerves thrummed under his skin at the prospect of giving his first blow job.

Dean felt _fantastic._

 _The “standard” sexual roles are stupid anyway._ Why _do only subs give blow jobs, and doms receive them? Why do we never role switch? Why don’t—_

Condom-covered cock brushed against Dean’s lips and his thoughts scattered. Castiel’s dick hadn’t looked big to Dean – about the same size as his own, both relatively average though Dean’s main frame of reference was porn so he might not have the most accurate standards – but pressed against Dean’s mouth, the dick felt huge, heavy, and hot. The latex tasted of synthetic berry and plastic. Relaxing his jaw, Dean let his mouth hang wide, let Castiel thrust into him. Reflex demanded that Dean gag and he fought to keep calm, to follow the instructions on how to deep throat that he’d read on the internet.

_I have to be good for my dom, right? Especially if I want him to...if I want him to..._

Even in the silence of his own mind Dean couldn’t give voice to what he wanted. Alone in his bedroom he had often fingered his prostate awkwardly but he’d never had the courage to privately buy himself a dildo, much less to seek a partner and ask them to...to...to do _it_ for him.

_Doms don’t spread their legs._

The voice reprimanding Dean in his head sounded depressingly like his father.

 _Well, maybe I’m_ not _a dom, no matter what my fucking biology says..._

_...bullshit, boy..._

Castiel’s hand caught the back of Dean’s head, nails dug into Dean’s scalp, and Castiel thrust into his mouth hard, blunt head of his cock buried so deep in Dean’s throat that pubic hairs tickled Dean’s nose. Body rebelling, Dean sneezed and gagged, trying to disengage, and Castiel snarled and pulled out.

_No – no, I’ll be good, I’m sorry!_

The apologies couldn’t get past his straining throat; doubling over, Dean clutched his roiling stomach, arousal fading, and tried to calm himself down. A stinging slap landed on Dean’s cheek and, stunned, he blinked back tears and looked up at his dom.

“Dean!” Castiel snapped. “What did I tell you?”

“Open wide?” croaked Dean. “Sir?”

There’d been more than that, but Dean didn’t want to think about it. Dean wanted to be used, abused, debased, humiliated, not coddled, not cared for.

_Really? And if I were in Castiel’s position, would I use, abuse, debase, humiliate a sub?_

_Of course not!_

_Is being a sub_ inherently _debasing and humiliating? Are doms_ inherently _abusive?_

_Absolutely not!_

_But I want—_

_It’s not_ about _what I want. It’s about what Castiel wants – my dom, my master, gets to decide what is appropriate._

“Before that,” Castiel grated out. “Repeat back to me, _verbatim_ , what I said.”

“Verbatim?” Dean coughed out. Shit...as if Dean could remember _exactly_ what Castiel had said! _If I’d been listening as I should have instead of dwelling on my own desires, I’d be able to meet his expectations. But instead, I..._ “Uh...”

Looking up at Castiel through his lashes, Dean tried to remember. Castiel’s expression was impassive, cold, _dangerous_ , and Dean swallowed. His throat burned. _Word for word..._

“Thank you for agreeing to scene with me...pet. Since we, um – no, that’s wrong, sorry— We haven’t discussed limits, so it’ll be especially important that you...” The longer Dean spoke, the harder Castiel’s expression got. _Oh fuck, I’m screwing up – will he end the scene? Will he kick me out? But no, he said..._ “It’s especially important that you – I mean I – I mean – you said verbatim! – it’s especially important that _you_ communicate if I – that means you – violate your...my...limits or hurt...you. If you are able to speak, you must use a safe word if I ask more of you than you are able to give, and if you are unable to speak you will tap out.”

“Close,” said Castiel ominously. “And what’s your safe word?”

“Poughkeepsie.”

“And what did I say the consequences would be if you didn’t heed my orders?”

“That you’d punish me, sir.”

Dean swallowed against a surge to desire that tremored through him.

 _What kind of busted sub_ wants _to be punished?_

 _Maybe no kind of sub...what kind of busted_ dom _wants to be punished?_

_Fuck if I know...but I do want him to punish me, damn do I..._

“Let me be clear, Dean: normally, I would forgive this infraction. If we’d adequately negotiated this scene ahead of time, this wouldn’t have been an issue – I’d have known, for example, that this is _surely_ the first time you’ve had a penis in your mouth, and I would have behaved appropriately. However, I trusted you to be a responsible adult, to see to both of our best interests, and to heed my instructions. Instead, you’ve violated my orders not once but twice: the first time when you didn’t _listen_ to my commands well enough to retain them, and the second when you nearly vomited on my shoes attempting and failing to deep throat. You need to learn –I need to teach you – that actions have consequences. Trust is the foundation of _any_ relationship, even one as impromptu as ours, and if I cannot trust you to faithfully relate your condition, cannot trust your consent, then we can’t scene. As such—”

“No!” Dean interrupted, heart pounding, frantic. _No! Castiel is gorgeous and understanding and he’s taking me seriously as a sub and...and...and..._ “Don’t end the scene – I can do better, I can!” Dean opened his mouth wide and leaned forward eagerly.

Castiel glared at him. Tears welled in Dean’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to end the scene,” said Castiel with a scowl. “That’s two further infractions. You will call me _sir_ when you address me, and you _will not_ interrupt me when I’m speaking. You’re going to need a great deal of training before you’ll make an adequate sub. You’re lucky I think you’re worth the effort. Stand up.”

“But—”

“Stand _up_ , poppet!”

_Pop—what?_

Amazed, Dean blinked, then his brain caught up with what he’d heard and he scrambled to his feet.

“Strip.”

Despite the stiffness in his legs and the ache in his knees, Dean hastened to obey. The private room to which they’d adjourned was small but tidy enough to feel spacious, empty save for the hooks and niches and bars adorning the walls and a single large armoire. Castiel turned from Dean, crossed to the armoire, and opened the doors to reveal a wide array of high-quality, well-maintained toys.

_At least he trusts me enough to allow me to get naked without him using my leash to force me – at least he trusts me enough to continue. At least I’m worth the effort..._

_..._ why _does he think I’m worth the effort? Heck, he’s not even watching me strip! Does he even want to see me naked?_

_No. Of course he doesn’t. Why would he, or anyone? I’m not exactly submissive material..._

Castiel glanced over his shoulder, eyes glinting as he stared Dean down. _So he does want to look...that’s something I suppose..._ Dean made a show of turning around in a circle and showing off his nudity. His erection had flagged during Castiel’s scolding, but even so he cut an impressive figure and it made him _sick_. Dean didn’t _want_ to be broad shouldered and narrow hipped, didn’t want to be muscular, didn’t want to be hung.

_This isn’t right. This isn’t me._

He wanted to be smaller, lighter, lithe; he wanted to be what Castiel and every dom liked him sought in their perfect submissive.

_I know what I look like, but please, Castiel – please, sir – give me a chance to be the sub you deserve! You’re right, I need training, but I won’t let you down._

 “I think the riding crop,” said Castiel thoughtfully with a decisive nod of his head.

A shiver tingled down Dean’s spine.

_Perfect._

“Thank you, sir,” Dean breathed.

“I know you have it in you to behave, poppet,” Castiel said. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

* * *

“Seventeen.”

Biting down on the leather gag in his mouth, Dean barely repressed a scream. It escaped him as a sob instead as he instinctually shied from Castiel’s blows, straining at his restraints. His back burned from shoulder to thigh, a mass of pain that throbbed in time to the pulse of his heartbeat.

 _Pulse_.

Dean’s heartbeat raced, his breath coming in ragged pants that whistled around the gag.

 _Pulse_ , and a wash of agony rippled through him.

 _Pulse_ , and there was a crack as Castiel struck him again.

“Eighteen.”

 _Pulse_ , and Dean latched onto Castiel’s deep, luscious voice like salvation.

 _Pulse_ , and there was no way to tell if Castiel was pleased or angry, satisfied or disgusted.

 _Pulse_ , and Castiel landed another blow that seared across Dean’s ass cheeks.

“Nineteen.”

 _Pulse_ , and Dean might have been floating above his body, disconnected, euphoric.

 _Pulse_ , and, limp, Dean let the chains attached to the ceiling support him, let his body weight tug at his shoulders, let the pain ripple up his stretched arms, down to his knees where they once again pressed into the floor.

_Pulse._

Dean’s cock hung heavy between his legs, precome dribbling down his leg, unfulfilled arousal as agonizing as every strike of the crop.

 _Pulse_.

“Twenty.”

Completely tense, completely at ease, completely tortured in the best possible way, Dean waited for the next blow to fall.

_Pulse._

Nothing happened.

_Pulse._

_Did I do something wrong?_

_Pulse._

_Why doesn’t he hit me again?_

_Pulse._

_I can’t even ask with the gag in my mouth!_

_Pulse._

_But the buzzer is in my hand, and I know now, know I have to signal distress if something is wrong – I’d press the button if he did something that wasn’t okay!_

_Pulse._

_This is okay – this is_ so _okay – I’ve earned this punishment and so much more._

_Pulse._

_A hundred beatings like this, a thousand, couldn’t wipe the stains from me, couldn’t excise the wrongness burrowed under my skin. I know what I am, know what I’m supposed to be, know what I want to be._

_Pulse._

_Hit me!_

_Pulse._

_Hit me, Castiel!_

_Pulse._

_Please, sir! Destroy me – incinerate me – exculpate me – I’ll do anything you ask!_

A touch to Dean’s shoulder startled him so badly that he cried out, struggling to writhe away.

“Shh,” murmured Castiel, voice soft in Dean’s ear.

Pain coursed so hot through Dean’s back that he couldn’t feel Castiel’s warmth, and the absence left him profoundly bereft. A sob escaped him.

“You did good, poppet. Very good. Are you alright?” Castiel’s fingers fumbled at something near Dean’s neck as he weakly nodded his confirmation. “Use words, Dean.”

_Oh. The gag. He removed it._

Dazed, Dean tried to turn enough to see Castiel, to track what he was doing, but twisting hurt and he collapsed against the chains. The rattling seemed overloud in his ears, seemed infinitely far away and inexplicably soft.

_...but...but it’s loud...or...or something..._

“I’m sorry...” Mealy mouthed, Dean swallowed the gummy goo that had accumulated under his tongue, and tried again. “Sorry I was bad, sir. I’ll do better. Please...”

“You did well – even better than I hoped – and I know you’ll do your best going forward,” said Castiel warmly. Another sob escaped Dean. _He believes in me. He thinks I – he thinks_ I _– can be a good sub for him! Please, please, please..._ Gently, Castiel undid the cuffs on the ends of the chains and eased Dean to the ground. Every movement hurt _wonderfully_. Swimming in the raw, scoured feeling suffusing him, Dean tried to comprehend how anything so agonizing could be so fantastic, but it made so sense.

“Sir, I...” Dean search for the words to explain how he felt, the confusion nagging at him, yearning to ask _how_ Castiel had done this to him, but he found nothing, only empty air as his mouth worked open and closed. Dean was a dom – or, at least, Dean had been _born_ a dom – but no scene he’d done as the controlling partner had been anything like this. He’d never felt so...so...so _elated_ , nor did he think he’d ever driven a sub to experience the euphoria that Castiel had induced in Dean. “Sir...”

Castiel’s weight was heavy behind him, clothing abrading Dean’s aching flesh. Some part of him wanted to call the tingling sensation the cloth caused _pain_ but it was past that, beyond that. Nothing _hurt_ , because even agony was somehow ecstasy. Sweat coated Dean’s skin, tears and mucus and spit covered his face. He was humiliated, ashamed of himself, and he _was_ debased, but not because he was a dom who had decided to submit. He couldn’t find a lick of embarrassment for that, not when he felt so good.

He’d violated Castiel’s rules.

And Castiel had punished him.

Shame was the appropriate response – Dean had acted like a child, and Castiel had punished him for it, just as his father had done when Dean had been a child in truth.

“I’m proud of you, poppet,” murmured Castiel. _That_ was something John Winchester had _never_ said to Dean. Dean’s weight shifted against Castiel and something hard pressed into Dean’s ass.

_Castiel’s cock._

_My dom is hard for me._

Adoring the feel of dick so close to his hole – _so close, so close to what I’ve wanted for so long!_ – Dean wiggled and earned a cautionary flick on his shoulder blade.

“Move slowly, now,” said Castiel, supporting Dean, tugging the leash to indicate which way he wanted Dean to go. Tears and emotion blurred Dean’s vision but he could make out something laid over the floor. Heeding Castiel’s urgings, Dean crawled until softness hit his knees – a futon, he thought, or at least blankets laid out over the wood.

Castiel’s cloth-bound cock still pressed into Dean’s ass.

Dean shimmied back, hoping Castiel would hit him again, anticipating Castiel hitting him again, and he was not disappointed. Open palm slapped against aching skin, and Dean cried out and collapsed on his belly on the bed.

_No! Now I can’t feel him!_

“Please...” Dean managed.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Dean?” asked Castiel.

 _How does he sound so calm? So in control? I could never – I_ have _never—_

 _Because_ I am not a dom _and he_ is!

“Yes!”

“Will you meet my conditions?”

Something clinked behind him but Dean didn’t look, abasing himself on the floor before Castiel, hitching his hips up in invitation. His cock ached with desire, his back burned with every motion, and Dean would allow Castiel whatever he wanted if it meant that Dean finally, finally would get to experience another man’s cock in his ass.

“Anything,” Dean mumbled into the bedding.

Castiel chuckled. “Open-ended offers are dangerous,” said Castiel. “But I won’t abuse your willingness – this time.” _This time? Does he want to...again...he wants me enough to consider? No – focus – listen to him carefully, I have to be attentive and prepared!_ “Only two conditions, poppet. First: Answer me honestly – is this your first time?”

Dean went stiff, then collapsed as the sudden tension caused intense pain. “I mean...I...sir, I’ve fingered myself, so...so not exactly? I...”

“No, Dean,” said Castiel. “Is this your first time _subbing_?”

_I really did screw this up. He knows now, knows how bad I am at—_

“Yes, sir” Dean mumbled miserably.

“Damn,” Castiel muttered. A jolt of cold fear pierced Dean. “If I’d known, I would have—”

“I’ll be good!” The pleading note in Dean’s voice was mortifying, but he couldn’t stop himself. Dean was close, so close, to what he wanted. If Castiel stopped now...

“Dean – Dean, please,” said Castiel, laying a hand on the small of Dean’s back. “I didn’t mean – I don’t regret asking you to be my partner today. We have much to discuss, I think – if you want to – but later, okay? You’ve met my first condition. I’m proud of you, and I’m going to give you what you need – I _promise_ , I will give you what you need. Do you believe me?”

There was no doubting the conviction in Castiel’s voice, and the horrible chill dissipated as quickly as it had formed.

“Yes,” Dean breathed

“Excellent. My second condition is that you _will not_ come.”

“What?” Dean exclaimed. “But—”

“ _Behave_ ,” Castiel chastised. “If you want to be a sub, you must _behave_ submissively, poppet. Will you meet my condition?”

_Will I?_

_The whole point of having sex is to get off!_

_No._

_Getting off is why a_ dom _has sex, or at least that’s the bull dad always spewed._

 _A_ sub _engages in a scene to satisfy their dom, to be whatever their dom expects, with the understanding that if the sub behaves appropriately, the dom will take care of them._

_If I’m to be a good sub...if I’m to do my best for Castiel...then I have to..._

“Yes, sir.”

_I am already enjoying this. Clearly, I don’t need an orgasm to find the act of submission satisfying._

_Castiel will take care of me. He promised, and I trust him._

_That should be terrifying..._

_...yet instead it’s oddly, wonderfully comforting._

“Good – very good,” said Castiel. There was a soothing note in Castiel’s voice, and Dean allowed himself to be soothed. “You’re being such a good boy for me, poppet. I’m proud of you.”

A warm glow filled Dean, easing his pains back to flickers of bliss, and Dean crumpled against the bedding and spread his legs apart in invitation. His cock throbbed, sexual frustration ranting unhappily in his thoughts, but he quelled his reservations.

Castiel was pleased with him.

Castiel would get what he needed from this scene.

Dean was being a good sub.

Dean had _already_ gotten what he needed from this scene, would continue to get what he needed knowing that he obeyed and served as Castiel wanted, demanded, and expected.

“Thank you, sir. I’m ready.”

* * *

Dean had thought Castiel’s cock seemed big against his lips.

Dean hadn’t had a fucking _clue_ how huge a dick in his ass would feel.

With a groan, Dean tried to relax and thanked every kind deity he could think of that Castiel hadn’t ordered him to silence. Prepped, lubed, and stretched, Dean was as ready for his first time as he ever would be, but it still felt like an eternity of being pressed into before Castiel’s hips rested on Dean’s ass, an eternity of taking something enormous within himself where before there’d never been anything but expulsion and tightness.

It felt...

...it felt okay, Dean supposed. Weird. Different. Unexpected. A little painful, but with the state of his back that was to be expected, and a little good. There were definitely some tingles of pleasure going through him, but having Castiel’s cock in him wasn’t the revelation that Dean had been hoping for. Castiel had taken such care opening him that Dean’s dick had gone soft, and he was starting to think that Castiel’s injunction that Dean not get off wouldn’t be so hard to meet.

Hands on either side of Dean’s neck supported Castiel’s weight, close as Castiel hovered over Dean. The unbuttoned flaps of Castiel’s vest brushed against the sensitive skin of Dean’s back and the teeth of his pants zipper dug into Dean’s ass. Castiel hadn’t undressed and Dean didn’t question it; it felt right to him that his dom be clothed while he was naked. Dean was a thing to be used, a submissive ass for Castiel’s pleasure, while Castiel was in charge, in control. The contrast between Dean’s nudity and Castiel’s buttoned-up dress shirt seemed entirely appropriate, somehow comforting.

Castiel hitched his hips back, eased back down, did it again, again, building a slow rhythm with every thrust. Flesh slapped on flesh and air made a dull _whump_ as hips hit ass. Sound caught in Dean’s throat with every exhale, the strange feeling of being full intensifying, spreading, as his focus narrowed to the feel of Castiel’s hardness deep inside him. Friction and motion brought pleasure that mounted, mounted, as Castiel’s thrusts grew faster. The nascent flicker of arousal that had suggested that being filled felt _okay_ burgeoned, grew, exploded into bliss that tore through Dean. Unconsciously at first, then intentionally, then forcefully, Dean’s hips hitched into Castiel’s strokes, and he groaned as the change in angle placed pressure on his prostate. When Dean had fingered himself, it had been soft, hesitant touches and brief pulses of rapture, but with Castiel slamming into him, the rapture was unremitting and fantastic.

“Dean.” The reprimand in Castiel’s voice hurt to hear, though the blow was softened by how breathy and deep Castiel’s voice had gotten. His arousal was so evident that Dean glowed with satisfaction. “Don’t you _dare_ come.”

“Won’t...I...I _won’t_...sir...”

_Why does he think I’ll—_

Castiel drew nearly all the way out – Dean whimpered – and Castiel slammed into him. Dean howled bliss, bucking up of the blankets. The angle ground Dean’s cock against the futon beneath them, sent him floating to the damn stratosphere, and he’d scarce gotten himself under control when Castiel did it again, and again, and again.

“You...you’re close, right...?” Castiel didn’t sound surprised or disappointed, just matter of fact, but Dean was still ashamed. “It’s alright. You’re doing your best – I know you are – because you’re my good little poppet, right?”

“Yes!”

_Yours! Want to be...do I get to be...may I...I’m really yours?_

“Excellent...good...I’ll help you.”

Something rock hard and _frigid_ closed around Dean’s cock, Castiel fucked into him, and Dean screamed. He hadn’t realized one of Castiel’s hands had moved, yet now Castiel cupped him, pressed...pressed fucking _ice_ to Dean’s erection. Dean sobbed. The ecstasy that had seemed so close ebbed. The pain of his back and the feel of coldness on the most sensitive place on his body dulled his arousal, but despite the hurt, Dean couldn’t conceive of Castiel stopping. He thrust his ass back into each press of Castiel’s body, thrust his cock against the ice, and babbled, “thank you, sir, that’s perfect, that’s...that’s...oh God, Castiel, please...”

The ice kept him grounded, kept him from incinerating with pleasure. Castiel hadn’t doubted him; Castiel had seen that Dean needed help and offered him the necessary support.

_Castiel took care of me, just as he said he would. He didn’t set me up to fail. He gave me what I needed to succeed – to be the submissive that he wished me to be. Despite his harsh words, despite his punishments...he has expectations for me, high expectations, but he’s not cruel and he’s not unfair._

_I had no idea – I could never have – when I was in charge...God I sucked at being a dom._

_But Castiel is fantastic. He’s_ exactly _what I need._

“Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel grunted, strained. His strokes grew faster and faster, rocking Dean against the thin mattress, and his breaths were loud in Dean’s ear.

“Fuck me, sir! Fill me! Wanna...wanna feel it for a week, wanna feel you in me forever, _please_!”

A groan tore from Castiel; his hand squeezed Dean’s cock, his hips pressed against Dean’s ass, and he rutted hard into Dean’s body, moaning incoherent but heartfelt praise into Dean’s ear.

_He came._

_I was good enough._

Dean lay still, reveling in the feel of Castiel over and in him, savoring Castiel’s speechless breathiness. The ice warmed and melted against his dick, Castiel’s hand not moving. Arousal buzzed intensely beneath Dean’s skin, but he was okay – not coming was okay.

Castiel was happy.

So Dean was happy.

A lifetime might have passed before Castiel slid out of him, rolled off his back, and settled on the blankets beside him.

“How do you feel, Dean?”

“Good, sir,” Dean murmured contentedly.

“Can you roll onto your back for me?”

Dean shook his head, feeling petulant, but he obeyed anyway. Even the soft blankets hurt his tattered skin, but Castiel lay beside him, smiling gently, tossing the used condom aside, and Dean managed a bemused smile back.

Shifting onto his side, Castiel propped his head up with his arm and reached over with his other hand to trace a line down Dean’s chest, between his breasts, over his muscled abs, around his belly button, to the thicket of brown hair around Dean’s cock. Despite knowing there was no promise of satisfaction, Dean moaned breathily and his erection twitched.

Castiel’s fingers curled around Dean’s dick.

“Don’t come,” Castiel reminded him.

“Sir...”

Castiel stroked him firmly. “That’s all you have to do, Dean – do. not. come.”

Dean swallowed and closed his eyes. _I can be good for him. I must be good for him._ “Yes, sir.”

Stroke.

Stroke.

Stroke.

Castiel cupped him gently, rubbed him hard, varied his grip and pressure, and Dean rose higher and higher. Dean’s back ground against the blankets, his ass still felt stretched, and Castiel’s voice murmured indistinctly in his ear. The combination was incredible, unbelievable, but Dean caught his lip between his teeth and teetered on the edge of a climax. The strain left him gasping, chest heaving, arousal a loud buzz in his ear that whited out whatever words Castiel spoke.

Stroke.

 _Can’t come – can’t – I’m allowed to feel good – but not to have an orgasm – and that’s okay, it’s okay – it’s better than okay, God, this feels so good...this feels_ right _. This is who I am._

Stroke.

_Thank God._

Stroke.

“Please...”

Stroke.

“What is it, Dean?”

Stroke.

“Please don’t stop!”

Stroke.

“Fuck...you’re perfect, Dean...”

Stroke.

Dean sobbed, hips working up into Castiel’s hand, but he didn’t come.

“Do you _want_ to come, Dean?”

 _Yes_!

 _No_!

“Whatever...whatever you want, sir! Want to be...want to be good for you – want to be yours!”

Stroke.

Stroke.

Stroke.

“So perfect – so beautiful,” Castiel whispered in Dean’s ear. “Come for me, poppet.”

Going rigid, Dean gasped, back arching off the ground, and drowned in the most incredible surge of bliss he’d ever experienced.

“Good...” Dean could swear he heard Castiel say, but there was no way he heard anything over his rushing blood and pounding heart.

Awash in pleasure, Dean settled back to the blankets, limp and sated. He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, and with Castiel’s gentle touch brushing down his chest, Dean let his awareness drift.

“Good,” Castiel said again, again and again. “You were so good, Dean.”

_I’m a sub._

_I’m a good sub._

_I was right._

_I can do this._

_I want to do this again._

_I want to be with Castiel again._

_I wonder if he wants that too..._

_...but it’s not for me to say. It’s for him to decide the course of our relationship._

_Later._

_Maybe._

“Good...good...”

_Even if it’s only this one time...thanks for everything, Castiel. Thanks for being everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I can manage 7,500 words on my Cap RB on Thurs and Fri, I'll try to write the last chapter of this on Saturday, but no promises...
> 
> (Dean says thank you, like, a lot? Sorry...)


	3. Chapter 3

“Dean…”

Something jostled Dean’s side. Mumbling protest, he batted in the vague direction of the touch, knocking away a hand.

“Dean,” repeated the man more firmly, shaking him harder.

_That’s Castiel._

_That’s my dom._

_Shit! I have to—_

Dean jolted to a sitting position with a gasp, eyes flying open in time to see Castiel starting back from him, settling onto his heels. Castiel’s hands came up quickly and Dean flinched, expecting a blow or a reprimand, before he realized that Castiel was displaying the detached clip end of the leash.

_End of scene._

The sinking feeling in Dean’s stomach was unexpectedly powerful, horrible, sickening. He slumped back onto the blankets and closed his eyes against tears.

“The club closes at 2 AM.” Castiel’s voice was yet deep, gruff, raspy, and Dean tried not to love the way it sounded, tried not to cling to every word.

 _No – let me cling – I can let myself have this. Knowing me, I’ll never have the fucking nerve to look for another dom,_ especially _since Castiel was so damn_ good _for me. Will I dare take a chance that the next dom’ll stink? What if I got stuck with a dom who acts like I did when I was trying to be dominant? God, that’d suck. But I can at least have his words – I can enjoy these last few minutes – I can pretend that wasn’t one-and-done, wam-bam-thank-you-ma’am._

“What time’szit?” Dean muttered.

“A couple minutes after 1:30,” said Castiel. “I wanted to be sure we’d have adequate time for aftercare. That would have been a difficult scene even for an experienced submissive. For a novice…”

Castiel trailed off, expression unreadable, and Dean’s mood sunk even further into the dumps.

_Of course he figured out I’m a fricken noob. And of course he wants to clean me up and get me out of here. Wouldn’t want to be seen leaving with an unsubmissive sub who behaved so badly that he needed a beating…_

_…but didn’t he say I did good?_

_Fucking doms, say anything to get ya off during a scene, don’t mean a word of it._

_No, Dean. That’s the kind of dom_ I _am, but that doesn’t mean that_ Cas _is that kind of dom…_

Curling onto his side, facing away from Castiel, Dean failed to resist the urge to tuck his knees up to his roiling stomach, to fold his arms protectively over his chest.

“Dean…” Castiel sounded…sad. Condemning. Dean clenched his throat against a distressed whimper. Yeah, he was pathetic, he was practically _begging_ for attention and help with his posture, but he wouldn’t sink _that_ low, wouldn’t resort to the worst kind of submissive, manipulative behavior.

_Wow, dad was so right about how submissives act, and he was so, so, so wrong in his belief that I’m a dom._

“Thank you for rolling over,” said Castiel.

Dean blinked.

“That will facilitate my treating the wounds on your back,” Castiel continued, oblivious. “May I touch you?”

Dean snorted.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“You’re my _dom_ ,” said Dean incredulously.

Castiel’s heaved sigh was so exasperated that Dean could _hear_ the eye roll, though he struggled to picture the staid, polite, firm dom doing anything so juvenile as rolling his eyes. “You have a serious issue with listening and attending,” scolded Castiel. “What did I say when I first asked you to scene?”

Combing his memory, Dean recalled – Castiel ordering his drink, inviting him to scene, putting the leash on him, and—

_Until I take your collar off, you will call me ‘sir.’_

Dean’s hand flew to his throat.

The collar was gone, too. Not just the leash.  Castiel had ended the scene but also, symbolically, forced Dean back to _himself_ , back to his everyday life. Even Castiel’s cuff was off. They were just Castiel and Dean again, both doms, for all that Dean was still naked and had let himself be fucked.

The fantasy was over.

_… I’m a dom today, tomorrow, forever…wearing a collar won’t ever change that…_

_…in what delusional dream did I think this was a good idea?_

Dean whimpered.

_Fucking hell._

“Are you able to answer me, Dean? May I touch you?” asked Castiel.

Dean managed a frantic head shake. Contact would shatter him, remind him of everything he craved and could never have. He didn’t want to get up off the floor. He didn’t want to the club to close in, what, twenty minutes? He didn’t want to wave goodbye to Castiel, to watch him walk away. He wanted…

_I want to be his, with everything that implies._

He didn’t dare let even his thoughts vocalize more explicitly desires than that. The longing to see this continue past one scene was too great.

“Dean.”

Normally, the frequent use of his name would have weirded Dean out, but coming from Castiel, in this moment, in this place, it grounded him. It reminded him of who he was, yes, but it also reminded him of who he was supposed to be, who he wanted to be, who he _had_ been if only for one night. It was agonizing and humbling and wonderful.

“Forgive me if this is ‘over sharing’ but...but I’ve been with men like you before,” said Castiel. “No – I shouldn’t be vague, and I don’t know your situation, so I shouldn’t assume – I should say: I’ve been with men whose situation resembles, at least superficially, your own. Men who are dominant but want to see how the other half lives. Honestly, I seek them out – they come to the club on a lark, or a dare, or as frat initiation, or dead drunk, or convinced that only subs bottom so if they want to be a bottom they need to play the submissive for a few hours – and to tell a guilty secret, I, um, I find their ‘duck out of water’ nature appealing. It gives me an outlet for some of my own darker impulses. Many subs do not appreciate my fondness for…let’s call it ‘discipline.’ When I saw you at the bar, I thought that was you, but the more we interact the more I realize how _profoundly_ wrong I was. I’m sorry for that, Dean. I’m sorry that I treated you like a dilettante who needed to be put in his place.”

“Don’t…” Dean swallowed to clear his throat and tried again. “Don’t be,” he croaked. “This was perfect. You were perfect. This was just what I needed.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” said Castiel thoughtfully. “For you, this was your idea of a perfect scene. This was what you wanted from tonight, from me. It _truly_ was. You’re not just saying that. You’re _not_ a dom.”

“I am,” muttered Dean, miserable.

_So he’s not great…he’s just another asshole, like me, getting his kicks from taking his dominance out on other doms – exactly the kind of sick fuck I feared he was, except…_

_…except that was still good, and I’d still like scene with him again, and now it’s even more certainly one-and-done because I’m_ not _what Castiel was looking for. He wants a dom, an actual dom, to force into submission and put into his place._

 _I mean…I’m kind of a dom…I’m_ technically _a dom…maybe I’m enough for him?_

“No,” said Castiel firmly. _Of course not. Because he doesn’t want someone like me. Why would he? I’m busted._ “Dean, I’ve been with many submissives, and many dominants, and _trust me_ , no matter what you’re body suggests, no matter what your biology appears to be, you are _absolutely_ a submissive, and a fantastic one. Never let anyone _ever_ tell you otherwise.”

Shocked, Dean rolled to face Castiel, who gave him an earnest, defiant, supportive smile.

“I think you’re beautiful,” Castiel continued, smile going gentle, eyes soft and tender, leash and collar held negligently in his lap. “Responsive, challenging, vocal, sexy, all the behavior I look for in a submissive, coupled with all the dommish physical traits I find a turn on. I wish I’d known this was your first time as a sub, I’d have handled things very differently. And now…” There was a beat pause and then a warning bell chimed. Castiel sighed. “That’s the ten minute warning. We’re out of time, Dean. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the dom you needed – the dom you deserved.”

Dean’s jaw dropped, and he pushed himself into a seated position.

“You…you think that wasn’t _fucking fantastic_?” stammered Dean.

“You have been…effusive…in your appreciation,” Castiel conceded. “But we should have communicated more before engaging in such an intense scene. I got swept away, and thought you were…well, I thought you were a dom just wearing the collar for the night, and that long run it’d be a lesson for you but you’d move on, but you’re showing all the classic signs of subdrop. Doms don’t, and domdrop has different symptoms. You _are_ a sub, Dean, and for the night you were _my_ sub, and that makes your care my responsibility, and I’ve failed. We don’t even have time for aftercare. I should have done better.”

Dean’s heartbeat pounded furiously in his ear. _Say it, say it, say it, say it, say it, say it say it say it sayit sayit sayit sayitsayitsayitsayit…_ “Prove it!” he snapped, meeting Castiel’s gaze.

Castiel blinked.

“Dean…?”

“You think you can do a better job than this as my dom? Better put your fuckin’ money where your mouth is, _sir_ ,” said Dean, feeling more confident and cockier by the word. He _was_ a sub, Castiel said he was, but he’d been pretending to be a dom since puberty and damn if he couldn’t make that work for him just this once. Light flashed in Castiel’s eyes as he quirked his head to the side and broke into a slowly widening grin.

“So mouthy already,” breathed Castiel. “Thought I taught you to listen when I talked, and trust me, poppet. Did the lesson wear off already? Perhaps…perhaps another scene would reinforce my teachings?”

Fuck if Castiel didn’t sound hopeful, didn’t look thrilled, wasn’t absolutely fucking _adorable_.

This _is the dude who whipped my back red?_ This _is the dude who fucked my brains out?_ This _is the dude I want as my dom?_

_Yes._

_Yes he is._

_Fuck. Yes._

“I dunno,” Dean replied with an air of nonchalance. “I mean, the guy I let pick me up at this shitty fuck bar was the kind of dude who’d casually walk up to a sub and order him a fuckin’ glass of water without even _asking_ first. But now all I see is this wishy-washy son of a bitch sitting in front of me, ‘boo hoo hoo, we both got off and my sub says it was awesome but we didn’t get all touchy-feely about our feelings first so it was baaaaad.’” Dean answered Castiel’s increasingly shocked expression by pantomiming a baby crying, fists twisting before his eyes, lips pouty. “So I say again: if that was you sucking, if that was you fucking up a scene, then you take me home, _Castiel_ , and you _show me_ what a better scene looks like.”

“Yes,” murmured Castiel, nodding slowly. “Yes…let’s…let’s do that. And—”

There was a pounding knock on the door. “Okay sickos, night’s up, time to get the fuck out of our fine establishment!”

Castiel smirked. “What do you say, Dean?”

“Your place or mine?” said Dean, standing and looking around for his clothing. Every movement twinged pain through Dean’s back and it hurt and it was really fucking awesome and he was so, so, _so_ down for more of the same, but first they had to leave the damn club. He’d left his outfit in a haphazard pile, but at some point while he’d dozed Castiel had folded them and set them neatly beside the door.

“Yours,” Castiel said. Dean froze, one leg in his pants and blinked. _He’s mine? No – wait, what did I ask? Right, he means my apartment._ “I want you to feel safe in a space you’re familiar with. You _do_ still need aftercare, and we _do_ have a lot of ‘touchy feely’ things to talk about. We—” Dean cracked up. “What?” Gasping, Dean tried to answer, but could only shake his head. “Why are you laughing?”

“A…air…air quotes!”

Castiel scowled. “How else would you understand that I was using the term _you_ chose, instead of one of my own devising?” Dean couldn’t stop laughing. “It’s…it’s not _really_ that funny.” At least Dean was able to hop into his pants as he did so. “Damn it, Dean…”

“Just…just stop talking and take me home,” Dean finally managed.

“Fine,” Castiel grumped.

_What’ll dad say when he finds out I’ve brought a dom home?_

_Probably “good job, son, always knew you were tough enough to rope even some prissy-ass vest-wearing excuse for a dom.”_

_I can’t_ wait _to see dad’s expression when this adorable, ridiculous, dominant as fuck man puts him in his place. If anyone can give Ultimate Dom John Winchester the set down he deserves, it’s dom-breaker Castiel._

 _Dude._ Dude _. Seriously? Waaaaaay too soon to think about meeting the ‘rents._

Tugging his shirt on, Dean’s head popped out the neck hole and he glanced toward Castiel. Castiel was still glowering, but he offered Dean a half-smile, and somehow in the moments Dean had been wrestling with his shirt Castiel had disposed of the bedding. The room was immaculate, as it had been when they arrived, the toys stowed, and Castiel’s looked equally immaculate, shirt and vest buttoned and neat and unwrinkled, not a trace of lube on the crotch of his pants to betray that he’d not even bothered to strip when he fucked Dean.

Dean shivered.

_Nope. It’s not too soon. I never found a sub I wanted to keep but I’ll be damned if I don’t want to keep Castiel as my dom._

_And somehow…I think he’d be okay with that, both with staying with me, and with it being_ my _decision._

_Definitely a keeper._

“Let’s go,” said Dean warmly, holding out a hand. “And Castiel – thanks for everything.”

Castiel took his hand, warm palm against warm palm, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “No, Dean, thank _you_.”

_We’ve got a long way to go…_

_…but for the first time in my life I want to scene with someone twice, and we both know why._

_We both know I’m a sub._

_Awesome._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and done. Thanks for reading, everyone! 
> 
> For lots of art reblogs, chatting, an idea of what I'm working on, and a whole mess of other random stuff, come follow me on Tumblr @[unforth-ninawaters](unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com)! :)


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